Ramón Carlín
Ramón Carlín, a Mexican washing-machine magnate who was a 50-year-old sailboat skipper of scant experience when he entered — and unaccountably won — the first Whitbread Round the World Race, a Mother Nature- and death-defying competition of more than seven months and 27,000 nautical miles across storm-tossed and near-frozen seas, died on Thursday in Mexico City. He was 92.
Seventeen yachts of varying styles and dimensions set out from Portsmouth, England, on Sept. 8, 1973, for the first Whitbread competition, a much-ballyhooed regatta often called the first fully crewed sailing race to circumnavigate the globe. (Two other boats joined the competition for separate legs later on.)
The race, now known as the Volvo Ocean Race and last held in 2014-15, was something of a novelty in its first incarnation; some 3,000 spectator boats followed the contestants out of Portsmouth harbor, and the captains and crews had varying levels of experience. But crews trained by the British Navy as well as some of Europe’s most accomplished sailors, including Chay Blyth, a Scotsman (now known as Sir Charles Blyth), who had previously sailed around the world solo, took part.
Certainly Mr. Carlín’s Swan 65 yacht, a 65-foot fiberglass craft christened Sayula II and purchased specifically for the race, was viewed as an inevitable also-ran. Before the start, British newspapers ridiculed the idea of a Mexican yachting crew; at least one cartoon depicted a boatful of clownish, tequila-swilling sombrero-wearers under patched sails.
Mr. Carlín’s quest did, in fact, seem quixotic. He had begun recreational sailing just two years earlier. His crew, which included family members (his wife was the cook on the first leg of the journey) mixed in with a few experienced salts, were barely acquainted as the race began.
Mr. Carlín may have been an unlikely adventurer, but by the early 1970s he was nonetheless seeking an adventure. And though his seagoing experience was minimal, his leadership instincts and skills were not. He made sure that the crew had creature comforts: The boat was fitted out with proper berths, a bar and a galley, and supplied with food and drink far more appealing than normal sea rations.
“He was enthusiastic; he did everything in a first-class way,” Bob Martin, an American who served on the crew, said in an appreciation of Mr. Carlín published on the race website after his death. “He cared about us, we had the best food and the boat was beautifully equipped.”
The veteran sailors on the crew also gave him credit for delegating properly, keeping his cool and being willing to perform the rudimentary but necessary tasks that many captains find beneath them.
“If someone was sick, he would take his night watch,” said a British crewman, Butch Dalrymple-Smith.“He would dry our wet gear if we forgot to do it. Others would scream. He just wasn’t like that. Everything that made the difference between success and failure can be traced back to Ramón.”
Mr. Carlín “was a perfect skipper, really,” Mr. Dalrymple-Smith added.
Bruce Weber, NY Times, May 2016
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